


post-existence

by corvidtrouble



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Gen, Ghost Tadashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidtrouble/pseuds/corvidtrouble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tadashi is going ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	post-existence

Tadashi Hamada had died with Hiro in his mind, and he supposed that was the only thing that had saved him from disappearing.

He was terrified of disappearing. The first few weeks were the worst. He existed; didn’t see, didn’t hear, didn’t feel. Just existed. His consciousness felt stretched to the point of tearing, and it took every ounce of his concentration to keep himself from fading away completely. He didn’t want to go. Maybe it was fear itself that motivated him to keep his hold on the living plane. Maybe it was the memory of his little brother that gave strength to his tense mind, prevented it from snapping and giving in under the weight of death.

Yes, he knew he was dead. But his suspended state didn’t allow much time or energy for thought. He remained a mere wavelength of memory, and it required all of his focus to simply _be_. He had no concept of time or space and he was very afraid. Where would he go, if not for here? After a while, keeping his existence together became easier, and he could allow himself some stray thoughts. They all seemed to be about Hiro.

—————

_Hiro._

—————

When he regained his senses of sight and hearing, he couldn’t tell how different they were from when he had a body. He couldn’t remember what being alive felt like. But oh, did he remember living.

Everything was dark, but not nearly as dark as the void between existing and not existing. Here, he didn’t have to concentrate. He didn’t have to exercise control over his thoughts, he didn’t have to fight. He simply _was_. Tadashi saw his room, his bed, the rice paper divider that separated him from Hiro. _Hiro._ The thought of seeing his little brother again snapped everything tight into a new clarity. It was all bright and buzzing for a split second before it slipped back into the dim and hazy surroundings that he at first had perceived.

—————

He couldn’t move yet; fixated in space by his lack of experience and lack of energy. But the first time he saw Hiro’s figure walk between the edge of the divider and the edge of the bedroom doorway, his wavelengths sung. He had not known motion until that instant, and now he was humming, flickering, _aching_ to follow his little brother and see his face. It would still be a while yet before he gained control of his movement.

—————

How long had he been gone? Hiro didn’t look much different.

He didn’t smile much anymore. The curve of the slouch in his shoulders seemed more exaggerated. The plates of food that he brought up and that were brought up to him remained, for the most part, untouched. The late nights he spent awake and trying to kill time began to show as dark circles under his eyes. Tadashi became worried.

Was this his fault?

—————

Tadashi ached the most when he could hear Hiro whimpering in his sleep from across the paper divider. The dim bedside lamp lit the room just enough so that Hiro wouldn’t be afraid to close his eyes. But once asleep, something plagued him.

Tadashi wanted more than anything to move over to his brothers bed and somehow comfort him. His entire existence itched with the need to make Hiro feel better. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted; he couldn’t move. _Stop crying, Hiro, I’m right here._ Why couldn’t he move? His energy longed for legs to mobilize him. If he could scream, he would. The soft shuffling of movement in blankets and sheets indicated that Hiro was writhing where Tadashi couldn’t see. _Hiro, please wake up._ This was a bad one. It seemed as though the boy was fighting his dream so he could come back to consciousness. He cried out desperately and Tadashi felt himself swell; wavelengths wide and far-reaching, his existence was a loud static, an electricity that arced through the air when he shouted in his mind— _Hiro, wake up!_

Hiro gasped and jolted awake in his bed, and Tadashi could feel his energy fading, his perception getting dim and hazy once again. Had he done that? Did Hiro actually hear him?

His fuzzy notions were affirmed when he heard his name whispered from his little brother’s panting mouth.

—————

It was Hiro that prompted him, a few days later, to experience real movement for the first time in this state. The sound of Hiro’s crying clicked Tadashi back into full lucidity. He was again behind the divider, out of sight, out of reach. Tadashi knew that this painful distance between them when his brother was in need of comfort would soon break him, if he wasn’t allowed to do anything about it.

The sound of Hiro’s sobs stuck to him like needles fired into flesh and it was sad and it hurt, but it made him feel strangely solid. WIth each one, his existence flinched and expanded; he had the feeling of lungs filled to bursting and a ribcage reaching its limit for flexibility. He wanted to move so badly that he could practically see Hiro straight through the paper of the divider, curled up in his bean bag chair, head down and back facing Tadashi.

Before he could feel it coming, Tadashi was lurching forward, straight through the divider and to Hiro’s side. The quick motion nearly made him dizzy but Hiro was right here in front of him, closer than he’d been for weeks, closer than he’d been since Tadashi had died, and Tadashi could feel himself and that strangly solid feeling as he leaned down to his brother ( _leaned down from where?_ ) and placed a hand ( _hand?_ ) on his shoulder and called his name. _Hiro, please don’t cry._

Hiro seemed to shiver as goosebumps broke out on his skin, and the quake through his body forced another gasping sob out of him, but he seemed to still. His head turned slightly and Tadashi almost, almost thought that he was looking at him. But Hiro’s gaze was lingering in the direction of Tadashi’s side of the room. He was still just as shocked.

_He can hear me?_

—————

By the next nightmare, Tadashi was ready. It was still a bit difficult for him to move, but much easier when he was moving to be by Hiro’s side. The first small whimper had barely left the boy’s mouth and Tadashi was there, looking over him with concern as he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep.

Tadashi briefly wondered what Hiro was seeing that disturbed him so much. He lingered by the dim bedside lamp and placed an unfeeling hand over the boy’s tightly knit brow.

_Hiro, I’m here. It’s okay._

Hiro almost instantly stilled, his breathing slowing down and his face becoming peaceful. Tadashi felt like his entire being was smiling. The wavelengths of energy that constructed his incorporeal body were ringing in absolute delight. Hiro could really hear him, there was no doubt.

_Hiro, I’m here with you. You’re okay._

A small sound escaped his little brother’s lips, but it was unlike those he had been making previously; this was not one of distress or fear. Hiro was trying to speak. Tadashi buzzed with excitement. The lamp beside them glowed a bit brighter.

It was clear that Hiro was struggling to get through the barrier of unconsciousness to speak, but he wasn’t afraid or desperate anymore, so Tadashi was patient. Hiro’s words, when they finally came, were slow and muffled.

“‘Dashi..”

Tadashi’s energy expanded greatly.

"… love you.."

There was a split second of high pitched vibrating before the bulb of the dim bedside lamp cracked loudly and went completely dark. Hiro jerked awake in shock, at first not sure what was going on, and then noticing the lack of light. It should have scared him, being awake and aware in the pitch darkness. But he couldn’t help the peculiar feeling of comfort that loitered within him. His eyes found their way toward the opposite side of the room. There was no way; it wasn’t possible.

Right?


End file.
